As secretary of the Department
of Public Safety and Corrections for 11 years, Mr. Stalder is primarily responsible
for keeping adults behind bars. And although the secretary has called for alternatives
to jail for juveniles, the department abandoned a 1991 plan that would have
reduced crowding in youth prisons by expanding community treatment programs.
Instead, it added hundreds of new juvenile prison beds.

To understand the department's
priorities, just follow the money: A dozen years ago, Louisiana spent $3 million
more on probation, residential and day treatment programs than on juvenile jails.
Now it spends at least $27 million more on jails than on services.

Lawmakers and citizens
ought to keep that in mind as the debate over juvenile justice -- and the Tallulah
youth prison in particular -- heats up during this spring's legislative session.

The notorious prison is
on the table because closing it would get rid of unnecessary prison beds and
generate savings that can be put to better use.

By some estimates, shuttering
Tallulah would save the state $20 million a year -- far more than eliminating
the same number of beds throughout the juvenile system, as the Department of
Corrections has proposed. The money will come in handy; reformers recognize
that it's the most realistic source for new treatment services for troubled
youths.

Sadly, getting rid of the
Tallulah prison has proved trickier than juvenile-justice reformers and fiscal
conservatives had hoped. Three friends of former Gov. Edwin Edwards own it,
even though taxpayers are footing the construction bill. Despite contract terms
that would let the state stop payment, bond rating agencies on Wall Street have
told state officials that they plan to hold Louisiana responsible for the debt
anyway.

Reformers say that even
if the state shifts 300-odd youths from prison to residential treatment, the
most restrictive and expensive alternative to jail, there would still be enough
money left over to make the annual payment. But Gov. Foster's administration
is loath to make those payments without getting the deed for the prison. Last
month the administration said it had been negotiating with the Edwards cronies
to buy the prison outright.

Whether the purchase would
be a bargain for taxpayers -- or just another rip-off -- will depend on the
terms of the deal and how the state plans to use the building.

What's worrisome is that
Corrections has already proposed a new use for Tallulah: it could be a vocational
center for older juveniles or a prison for juveniles convicted in adult court.
Both ideas hold some appeal. But in either case, taxpayers would keep pouring
money into a grim prison in the middle of nowhere, instead of spending it on
rehabilitative services closer to where young offenders live.

Unfortunately, the front-line
workers in Louisiana's juvenile justice system are prison guards whose training
emphasizes physical control. Many of them abuse their charges and play youths
against each other, according to judges, lawyers, youth advocates and parents.

Helping young offenders
come to grips with the consequences of their actions and get their lives on
track is a complex and delicate job. The state's prison department is ill-equipped
for it.

For that and other reasons,
most members of the Juvenile Justice Commission want to give responsibility
for juvenile justice to a new agency that focuses more on treatment. That's
the proper course.

Veterans of Louisiana's
juvenile corrections system say it's in better shape now than it once was. New
beds have alleviated the crowding that led to federal court supervision in the
1980s. Juvenile inmates are no longer sleeping in closets and on floors.

But by committing so much
money and energy to incarceration over the past decade, the department has squandered
its chance to create a less expensive and more effective system. And unfortunately,
Mr. Stalder's department doesn't have any more tricks up its sleeve.